Love Me
by bucktooth22
Summary: Sherlock returns and John's sad Johnlock Oneshot


Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock

Sherlock had been back three days. In those three days, he'd done everything he could think of to get John to forgive him. He'd apologized at least seven different ways. He'd bought milk and jam and stupid jumpers. He'd bought chocolates and tried to coax John into going to crime scenes with him. He'd let John punch him and had seen the seething hatred behind him but he just wanted to return to the cool nights of passion and kissing and love. John did a lot of reading. He also did a lot of ignoring Sherlock. The consulting detective just wanted something. Anything. John's anger, his shouts, his rage, something that showed that John was thinking of him. Something that showed he was acknowledging Sherlock's presence. John was in his chair, reading, as usual.

"John." Sherlock said. "John!" He shouted. "Johnnnn." He moaned as he flopped over the back of the chair and slid down onto John's lap. "Stop ignoring me John!" Sherlock whined. His blue bathrobe was caught on John's head, covering it. There was no way John could ignore him now. Unless he stood up. Which is what he did. He let Sherlock fall to the floor like dead weight and, yes, he did see the irony. John looked down at Sherlock with an annoyed and slightly disgusted look. It was the look Donnovan and Anderson gave him. It was the look he got when he smiled at crime scenes. It was the look his brother gave him when he spoke to his skull. John had never given it to him. Annoyance yes. But never disgust. And it really, _really_ hurt him. It hurt his heart, more than his bum where he'd been dropped. More than his face that was still healing from John's attack when he'd first shown his face. It hurt his nearly nonexistent feelings. He'd been haunted by those disgusted eyes he'd gotten from everyone. He'd been followed by the names he'd been called but with one touch from John Sherlock would forget it all. But now there was that face. John's face. With a look of hatred and anger and disgust and distrust and annoyance. And it hurt Sherlock more than anything he'd experienced before. John went over to the couch to lay out his legs to resume his reading. Sherlock filed away the pain and resumed his pursuit of his lover. He went to the side of the couch where John's legs were resting and began crawling up John's body. Only, before he could get very far, John put the foot of his good leg firmly against Sherlock's stomach before lifting him up and away. "Don't ignore me John!" Sherlock moaned loudly. John let his leg drop, which caused Sherlock to fall to the floor with a loud thump. "Yell at me. Shout. Scream. Hit me. Just please stop ignoring me." Sherlock pleaded from where he was sitting in a disgruntled heap on the floor.

"You want me to hit you?" John asked after a long silence.

"Anything." He nodded as he stood up, eyes locked with John's. "Anything you want."

"And then what?" John asked.

"Passionate sex where you release all your bottled up emotion?" Sherlock offered.

"And then?" John pressed. "If I let you back into my life," Sherlock noted the if rather than a when. "You'd go back to treating me like an idiot and using me to get off at night." John replied. "You'd leave whenever you felt like, carry on with Irene, i know you texted her don't shake your head." John's voice remained deadly calm. "I know you Sherlock. Maybe that's the problem. I know you. I know the pain i felt when you were gone. I know the loneliness that you left. I felt all that. And where were you? What were you doing then? Well Sherlock? Did you ever comfort me when i was sad? Take care of me when i was sick? Did you love me? Did you think of me? Or was I not good enough? Not like Irene? Did you text her? Did Mycroft know you were alive? Who knew?" John demanded.

"Molly, Mycroft, Irene, my parents, and some of the people in my homeless network." Sherlock replied.

"So...everyone but me. That shows how much I matter to you right there doesn't it?" John laughed a cold sound that was almost mechanical.

"Yes. It does. It shows that all those people, they're expendable to me. They could know because everyone who knew was in danger because of me. So they helped me and they risked themselves but not you. Never you John." Sherlock tried to get his blogger to understand. John snorted distastefully.

"Get away from me." He snarled.

"John-" Sherlock tried in vain.

"No." John snapped. "Don't you John me. You make me sick. You are so bloody brilliant but you're an idiot. I would have done anything for you. I would have taken a bullet, I would have blown up by that pool, I would surrender myself to Jim Fucking Moriarty if it meant you'd be safe. All I ever wanted was for you to really love me." John said crying. He smiled sadly at Sherlock through his tears. "All I ever wanted was your love but I don't need it anymore. I don't need you anymore." John said as he stood up and, with his book still in his hand, he went to his room. Sherlock felt anger rise inside him as he surged after John. He smashed the bedroom door open, not caring as the handle bit into the wall. He grabbed John's jaw in one rough hand and dug his fingers painfully into John's hips. He pulled John against him and leaned back against the wall, clinging to his little army doctor tightly.

"You want my love?" Sherlock spat out angrily. "You always had it." He snarled as he kissed John's tearstained face ferociously, marking, claiming, demanding. When he broke John was panting and looking a bit frightened at Sherlock as if he were a wild animal who'd caught him in his claws. "And you may not need me anymore but i need you. I'll always need you John. No one else. I need you." Sherlock said more softly as he resumed kissing, this time more soft, gentle, loving, caring.


End file.
